Name It and Claim It :o)

So . . . yesterday I took a field trip to Home Depot to buy some ceiling fans. Summer is being a bit bossy with Spring right now, so holy cow—it's hot. And southern girls don't sweat—or so I'm told. So I'm using all of that as an excuse to get new ceiling fans.

To find them I went to the only place where you pay to do things yourself. :o) I had just come from work, sporting heels and a pencil skirt, so I guess I didn't look like one of the locals. That fact must've been obvious because when I walked in the doors, a gentleman in his mid-60s decked in his orange Home Depot garb took a glance at my heels and asked: "Ma'am, can I help you find anything?" (As in, "Like, your brain? This is the place where you buy nail guns and hammers and lawn mowers and testosterone-y stuff. You and your skirt don't fit here.")

And then my adventure began. His name was Bo, and he was from Russia, or the Ukraine—but obviously, because of his thick accent, not from here. I explained that I was looking for indoor ceiling fans. As he guided me through the store he went on and on about how proud he was that I had come to Home Depot all by myself to buy ceiling fans without my husband.

"Oh, no, no," I interrupted. "I'm not married. I don't have a husband."

I'm not sure if he didn't hear that part or if what I said translates to something else in Russian, but he proceeded to go on and on about how proud he was of my bravery for tackling Home Depot solo. He was acting like I was out trekking through the hills of Afghanistan searching for Bin Laden with nothing but a squirt gun.

After he went on for a bit longer about my purple-heart-worthy bravery, we arrived at the ceiling fans. I already knew which ones I wanted—I had been to three other stores the day before with my cousin Deanna but none of the stores had the fans I was looking for. Once we found them, I was so excited—about as excited as I'd be if I really did, in fact, track down Bin Laden in Afghanistan with a squirt gun. It was a world-changing find. :o)

Once we found the fans, Bo, ever-so-helpful Bo, didn't want me to make the LONG journey back to the front of the store in my heels to get a cart, so he volunteered to do the honors. (What a gentleman.) And while he was gone, I had to call Deanna to tell her about my colossal find. As she and I were hanging up, Bo turned the corner with his cart, with a big grin on his face and his crystal blue eyes flashing with excitement. "Oh, you're so excited about your fans that you called your husband! He is going to be so proud!"

"Oh no," I explained again. "I'm not married. I don't have a husband. That was my COU-sin. Not my HUS-band."

Again, I'm not sure if what I said got lost in translation, but as we walked to the front of the store to the checkout lines he went on and on about how my husband was going to be so proud of me for finding these fans.

I didn't know what to say. I tried to insert the truth that I was still as unmarried as I had been three minutes ago, but Bo either wasn't listening or wouldn't have it. According to him, I was going to win the "Wife of the Year" award when I got home.

He was so enthusiastic that I almost started to believe him.

Bo courageously ushered me through the treacherous aisles of Home Depot, right up to the cashier. As he handed me off to another capable Home Depot employee who would help me complete my arduous journey, he turned to face me. I thanked him very much for his help in finding my fans, told him how excited I was, and stuck out my hand to shake his. He grasped my outstretched hand in both of his in a tender clasp, looked me right in the eyes, and said:

"Give my regards to your husband."

I gave up.

"Yes, Bo. I most certainly will," I answered.

As I walked to the parking lot, the proud owner of two new ceiling fans, I decided that maybe he was speaking in faith. Yes, that's it. Bo is a Prophet. And I'm claiming his words. :o)